


Come meet your heroes

by protisvit



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bonding over your mortal bffs who you love against all reason, Carefully hopeful ending, Especially not his childhood hero, Friendship, Gen, Legolas isn't quite used to meeting literal legends yet, Legolas wanted to be like Beleg when he was little, Legolas' inquiries were definitely neither secret nor discreet but nobody tell him, Now Beleg wishes he could have been like Legolas, Tolkien Gen Week, Tumblr Prompt, bitterweet memories, that's my favourite tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protisvit/pseuds/protisvit
Summary: Legolas and Beleg meet in Aman and find there is much they have in common.Tumblr prompt for Tolkien Gen Week 2020.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel & Legolas Greenleaf, Beleg Cúthalion & Túrin Turambar, Legolas Greenleaf & Beleg Cúthalion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	Come meet your heroes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starlightwalking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/gifts).



_They say never meet your heroes, but what if your hero wants to meet you?_

He lifts his bow.

There are no targets here in these unfamiliar woods of Aman, or at least none that he has not picked out for himself, but he would hate to lose his skill. Even if there is no use for his weapon in the Hallowed Lands, except for hunting and sport, 3000 years of battle readiness are not easily forgotten.

An understanding, he knows, that is shared widely in the Valinor he has come to know, where the elves of the First Age try their best to forget wars more gruesome than any warrior of Mirkwood could imagine.

‘How strange it is to walk in the company of Legends’, he ponders. ‘To wander alongside the great Kings of the First Age, of whose valour little elflings beg to be told before they are sent off to bed. I do not believe I shall ever be used to it.’

Yet they had not been his bedtime stories, not exactly, as his father was notorious for his dislike of the Noldor, including their Kings and their great warriors, who had battled against Morgoth himself.

No, it was not them the elfling in Legolas secretly wished to meet.

_“Look Adar! Look at my bow! I’m Beleg Cúthalion and I will slay aaaaaall the orcs and rescue my friend!”_

_“I am sure you will, little one, but isn’t that bow a little tall for you?”_

_The little blond elfling pouts, while his blue eyes carefully measure the longbow that reaches a good few inches over his head and then, seemingly having come to a conclusion, he straightens his narrow shoulders._

_“Then I will have to eat all the vegetables that naneth says will make me grow big and strong.” he pronounces gravely and his father struggles to keep an equally serious expression on his own face._

_“That is a very smart idea, ion-nin. Your mother will surely be delighted and your friends grateful to have such a loyal and dedicated companion at their side.”_

_The elfling beams widely at his father’s approval and then takes off to get ready for supper with a new found determination._

Legolas smiles at the memory. His resolve to eat his vegetables had not lasted, much to his parent’s disappointment, and neither had his father’s approval of his great role model. Not once he had befriended Aragorn and not once he had decided to follow him on the long path to Mordor.

_“It is the right thing to do Adar, you know this. I cannot stand back when the fate of this world hangs in the balance.”_

_“There are others, who can care for this world. Your place is here with your people.”_

_“My place is by his side and I will not leave him. Not now, when he is to set out on the path of his destiny.”_

_“His destiny,” Thranduil scoffs but his scorn his tinged with desperation “And what will your own destiny be? Is it not enough they call you Cúthalion for you skill? Will you have to follow a mortal man into a doomed quest so they can call you Cúthalion for your fate as well?”_

He notches another arrow and aims for a bundle of pinecones that hangs half-hidden behind a distant branch.

Such a meeting would be most unlikely, he tells himself. After all, his, hopefully careful and discreet, inquiries had revealed that the elf in question does not often dwell in the great cities but prefers to roam the woods with his old companion and there is no reason at all, why he would come to seek out-

“You shoot well.” comes a voice from behind him and Legolas, who had been lost deep in thought and not focused on his surrounding- something that tells him he has become more used to life in Aman than he thinks- startles and let’s loose the string a fraction too high.

Before he can huff out a sound of annoyance at the interruption and his own carelessness however, the stranger has already fired his own arrow, which now flies with great speed towards Legolas’ wayward one and brushes it slightly, forcing it down. The pinecones fall.

Legolas stares.

Then he turns around.

And stares some more.

“You- who- what- ? _No!_ ”

There is a smirk tugging at the stranger’s lips.

“I do apologise for the rude interruption, I have not even introduced myself. I am Beleg, I hope I did not startle you too much.”

In this very moment it is only millennia of training in diplomacy and a courteous facade that keep Legolas from a very undignified display of disbelief. He answers reflexively.

“Legolas Thranduillion. It is - an _honour_ to meet you, Beleg Cúthalion, your name truly serves you as well as the tales say.”

His companion- _Beleg Cúthalion-_ laughs.

“Truly, you flatter me! But I shall never be used to being thought of as a character in a tale, it seems so strange don’t you agree?”

“I would not know for they are no tales sung about me.” Legolas answers a little breathlessly, still in awe of the apparition in front of him. Beleg raises his brows.

“Are they not? And yet I know you to be Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, one of the Nine, who set out to destroy the Ring of Power and end Sauron’s reign once and for all. Your archery is much praised, and from what I have seen before I so rudely interrupted, for good reason.”

Legolas tries his hardest not to gape at the revelation that Beleg Cúthalion does not only know his name but has also just praised his archery skills.

“I- thank you. It is a great honour, truly to hear you speak of me so. I never would have dreamt that-I mean I-“ he can feel the tips of his ears turning red as he tries to find the right words and is saved further embarrassment only, when the legendary elf puts a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Peace, Legolas. You need not be afraid of me. After all, we have much in common you and I.”

“I would never dare to compare my skill to-“

“No.” Beleg interrupts him gently. “I do not speak of archery, even though I have heard there are those, who would gladly grant you my title. I speak of the company we have kept and lost, though fate seems to have viewed your friendship with kinder eyes.”

Legolas falls silent as years of memories well up in his mind, and his companion is quick to speak up again.

“Please forgive me if my words brought you pain, I know your grief must still be near.”

“No, no it is quite alright.” He shakes his head slowly. “I have made my peace with the price of our friendship long ago. I can call myself lucky it lasted many years in the span of mortals…”

He trails of as he realises who he is speaking to, but Beleg seems to have taken no offence and only nods in quiet agreement.

“Indeed you are fortunate.” He pauses, and as he speaks again his gaze is searching. “Not many of our people understand why I chose to follow a mortal man, but you do, do you not?”

“Yes.” Legolas answers, and there is a lump in his throat. “I understand.”

And he does, for he would have done the same. _Had_ done the same. And it was only by luck that death had not been his reward.

“Their spirits burn so bright, perhaps because they have so little time. Always changing, evolving, flickering in a captivating dance that draws us like moths to the flame until eventually…” Beleg quietens as something flashes behind his eyes, and as he opens his mouth again his tone has changed to something that might be longing or might be resignation or might be something entirely else.

“We Eldar merely exist throughout our long days, while the Edain…they _live._ They cannot stand still, for life does not wait for them, so they _move_ and decide and we move with them until our fate is decided. I envy them at times.”

“They make us feel alive.” Legolas echoes in agreement.

“Alive and of use for their goals are measured in years not centuries.”

“But why fish for reasons.” Legolas contemplates. “We do not decide who we lose our heart to, be it in the fashion of Beren and Lúthien or in great friendship like-”

He breaks off abruptly. _In great friendship like Túrambar and Cúthalion_ that’s how the saying goes, but it feels ill-fitted in his present company.

Yet the other elf seems to know what he had wanted to say, for he smiles with a melancholy curve of his lips.

“Our tale was not ultimately a happy one but I am glad our friendship is remembered, at least.”

They fall into silence.

“They can be rather silly, though.” Beleg suddenly remarks, and Legolas startles at the sudden change of tone before he catches himself and snorts.

“Oh yes, I remember.”

“Always rather dramatic for a start.”

“Please, you don’t have to tell me. The amount of times I have had to search the darkest corners of an appointed meeting place for a shadowy figure, you would have thought I was playing hide-and-seek with him like a child!”

“And all the names! Collecting epessës like berries!”

“And Eru forbid you use the wrong name once!”

“And really they don’t wash often enough! Streams are there to be used, I would tell him! Only because we share the forest with the animals does not mean we have to smell like them!”

“Exactly! But no, it is too cold, he has only washed two days ago and there is no time to waste on such frivolities, his clothes are dirty anyway and he does not have a second tunic and have I mentioned it is too cold?” chimes in Legolas, remembering all the silly arguments that had turned into a friendly bickering, that had warmed them more than their fire during the long days in the forest.

“Truly a delicate species.” Beleg adds in a mock grave voice and it only takes a brief look between the two elves before they burst into laughter.

“He was a good man.” Legolas says, once he has caught his breath again, and makes to wipe away a few stray tears in which mirth and grief have mingled, from his cheeks.

“Yes, he was.”agrees Beleg with bright eyes and Legolas does not ask who he is talking about.

“We shall see them again. Someday. I believe that.” And only as he speaks this, he realises it is true. In Middle Earth death had been final, a sundering even for the elves for which the Blessed Realm had been a distant tale and their fate a mystery in the hands of unseen powers.

But here in Aman, where the Valar themselves walk among them, the edge of this world seems so much closer and sometimes Legolas feels as if he can almost see behind it.

They sit like this for a while, on the tree stump they had collapsed on in laughter earlier, before Beleg finally shakes himself out of his thoughts and jumps to his feet.

“Now, earlier I thought I might show you a little trick I invented, if you’d like. A slight modification in the way you hold your drawing arm that will give your arrow a greater momentum, while also not compromising the pace of your draw. I found this quite useful especially when-“

Legolas follows Beleg’s movements and explanations with rapt attention and only as he holds his arrow drawn on the string, his arm in a slightly adjusted position, his mind turns back to his earlier words.

‘I cannot wait to tell you of this, Estel’, he thinks and smiles, ‘after all, what could be called impossible when the Legends themselves walk among us.’

The arrow flies.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt by the lovely arofili/starlightwalking on tumblr and a bit of a challenge at first, but an absolute delight once I got the hang of it! 
> 
> Hope you liked it and as always, kudos and comments are very, very much loved and appreciated! :)
> 
> (Also can we just agree that First Age stories are the Brothers Grimm fairytales of Middle Earth? Dark, disturbing and definitely not suited for children.)


End file.
